Elizabeth Mansfield by The Bartered Bride Read Free Book Online

Kittridge turned to the fire and held out his hands to warm them. “I’ve just learned that I’m rolled up, that’s all.”
    “Rolled up? How can that be? We’ve been back less than a week!” He pushed his friend into a chair and went to pour a couple of brandies. “How much blunt can you possibly have run through in so few days? What have you been up to, man?”
    “Not I. My father. He performed the almost unbelievable feat of squandering the entire estate. The Suffolk property, Highlands—that’s the family estate in Lincolnshire, you know—the London house,everything.” And, taking the drink Sandy offered him, he began to relate the whole story.
    At strategic moments during the recital of the details, Sandy refilled Kittridge’s glass, but even after the tale was fully told and the bottle stood empty on the floor beside their chairs, his lordship felt no effect from the drink. His spirit was so depressed that it seemed to leave no room for the brandy to do its work. “What am I to do, Sandy?” he asked miserably.
    “Don’t know, old fellow,” Sandy admitted, taking the last swig left in his glass. “Haven’t the foggiest. Finance is not a subject I’ve studied. But I know you, Robbie Rossiter. I’ve seen you lead a division across a ravine while three enemy regiments shot at us, and you, cool as ice, never hesitated or flinched. I’ve seen you land on your feet after your horse was shot from under you. I’ve seen you cut a piece of shrapnel from my thigh with the aplomb of a surgeon. I’ve seen you calm a brigade of terrified dragoons while a typhoon whistled round us like Armageddon. If anyone can come through a crisis, it’s you.”
    “Those crises were easy. I’d take any or all of them in place of this one. This one has me terrified. What will my mother say when I tell her we must sell the London house? How will I keep Gavin in school? And my sister will need help, too.”
    “Eunice?” Sandy’s round face reddened, and he dropped his eyes from his friend’s face. “Is something wrong with her?”
    Kittridge was too absorbed in his own problems to notice Sandy’s blush. “Her husband—you remember him, don’t you? Henry Yarrow? He was at Eton with us when we were in our first year and he was in the upper fourth. Well, he died unexpectedly a few months ago—”
    “Yes, I’d heard that,” Sandy mumbled.
    “His estate went to a distant cousin, because Eunice’s babies are both girls. The heir is obligated, I believe, to supply her with some sort of allowance, but I shall have to provide housing for her and her children on top of the rest.”
    “That
is
too bad.” Sandy fixed his eyes on his glass. “Is your sister still in mourning?” he asked with studied casualness.
    “Half-mourning, I believe. Why?”
    Sandy hesitated. “Never mind,” he said. “It’s not important.”
    Kittridge, who ordinarily would have exerted himself to draw out from Sandy what was on his mind, could not now concentrate on the matter. The thought of all his responsibilities—obligations which he had no idea how to discharge—was too overwhelming. He put his hand to his head and shut his eyes. “God! What am I to do?”
    Sandy, unable to think of an optimistic answer, shook his head. Then he remembered that there
was
a bright side, a name the mere mention of which had always brought a light to Robbie’s eyes. But it was a name that his friend seemed to have avoided all afternoon. “I say, old man, isn’t there one person you’ve forgotten to speak of? Why haven’t you mentioned Elinor?”
    Kittridge’s head came up slowly. “Oh, God!
Elinor
!” He stared at his friend, his eyes widening in horror. “I didn’t even
think
of her!”
    Sandy’s round face took on a glow of hope. “Then think of her now, you clunch. At least you’ll have Elinor to bring some light into your life.”
    “No,” Kittridge groaned in despair. “Even
that
will be denied me.”
    Sandy’s face fell. “Why?